


Umarekawari

by Quillence



Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Haruno Sakura, Canon-Typical Violence, Haruno Sakura-centric, Multi, Rebirth, Time Travel, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillence/pseuds/Quillence
Summary: When Sakura dies, she doesn’t expect to wake again, much less as the previously non-existent sister of her genin sensei.





	1. Kintsugi

In the end, Sakura kneeled between the broken bodies of her teammates, desperately pumping chakra into their cold, limp forms, heedless of the blood – their blood – that was soaking into her pants. Her green chakra healed nothing, didn’t even _circulate_ , but stopping would mean accepting reality, accepting... No. Kakashi may have been turned to ash in Kaguya’s unrelenting attacks, but her boys were still there, could still be saved, if only Sakura could just do a little _more_. In the back of Sakura’s mind, the rational doctor who _knew_ Sasuke and Naruto were beyond saving, wished she’d had the chance to learn Chiyo’s secret, life-bringing technique that had revived Gaara from death’s clutches. _No. No,_ Sakura thought, _they’re not gone yet, I can still—_

 

“Woman,” Kaguya’s soft, melodic voice chimed, “don’t you realize it’s hopeless?”

 

Sakura’s mystical palm jutsu faltered as she jerked her head up to look at the goddess. Kaguya barely looked ruffled, as if she she’d merely been swatting flies, rather than battling against the most powerful shinobi in the world. “You killed my teacher,” Sakura rasped, Kakashi still disintegrating in her mind’s eye, “I won’t let you kill my friends.”

 

“They’re already dead,” Kaguya pointed out with a slow blink, tears slipping from her pale eyes. Her face did something complicated, pinching and spasming before returning to its calm, placid expression. “They were my children.”

 

Something nasty unfurled in Sakura’s chest, an unholy blend of rage and grief, of bitterness and horrible, looming loss. It took the air from her lungs and seized Sakura’s throat, choking out the sob that threatened to spill from her lips. “If they were your children,” the kunoichi whispered hoarsely, “why did you kill them?”

 

One of Kaguya’s cold hands found its way under Sakura’s chin, tilting her face with slim fingers. “You are a woman without gifts,” the goddess murmured, her voice terribly soft. “You do not possess the chakra of my grandsons, nor are your natural chakra pools vast, nor your bloodline favorable. You have nothing, no special skill, and yet you are the only woman to ever stand in my path. Why?”

 

Sakura turned her face away, only for Kaguya’s other hand to come up and cup her cheek. Sakura recoiled from the comfort, her stomach churning at the thought of what those hands had just done to her team. “I loved them,” she admitted. “I loved them enough to follow them to the end of the world, but I... I couldn’t save them.” Sakura’s eyes burned, and Kaguya’s face swirled into strange shapes behind the haze of tears the kunoichi tried desperately to keep from spilling.

 

“Of course not,” Kaguya soothed, her thumbs coming up to swipe at Sakura’s cheeks. “How could you? A talentless girl, born under no lucky stars... Perhaps, in your next life, you will be born under a more forgiving sky.”

 

Barking out a bitter laugh that rang hollow to her own ears, Sakura asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

 

“Yes,” Kaguya confirmed, and Sakura was suddenly grateful she was already kneeling. Perhaps if she had Naruto’s determination, or Sasuke’s pride, or even Kakashi’s weary endurance, she could have dredged up the energy to at least spit in the goddess’s infinitely powerful face. But Sakura had none of those things. Sakura was born meek, and had learned confidence and grit from the battles she’d won, from the impossible odds she’d survived. Now, facing certain death, Sakura could only dredge up a vague sense of disappointment, and maybe a lick of relief hidden inside of her resignation.

 

It took only a second for Kaguya’s all-killing ash bones to protrude from her hands, still cradling Sakura’s face as if she was something precious, and make good on her promise.

 

 

-

 

 

Except, it wasn’t really the end.

 

Sakura woke slowly at first, and then all at once. She was surrounded by darkness at all sides, the environment so pitch she could barely see more than a few feet in front of her. The memory of Kaguya’s cool palms against her cheeks, of the split-second of pain before complete numbness, rocketed against her skull. Was this the afterlife? Darkness, as far as the eye could see? Or was it merely the afterlife meant for liars and murderers by profession?

 

“I’m sorry,” a voice rumbled from behind Sakura, and she whirled to look at someone she could only assume to be related to Kaguya herself, if the third eye and horns were anything to go by.

 

“Who are you?” Sakura asked, preparing to pump chakra into her fists—except, no chakra came to her. It was as if her body was re-sculpted without any chakra reserves at all.

 

The man standing before her smiled slightly, a barely-there quirk of his mouth. “There is no chakra in death, Sakura,” he informed her. “My name is Hagoromo, but you may know me as the Sage of Six Paths. I... met with your teammates, Naruto and Sasuke, before they died. I regret that I did not meet with you as well.”

 

“...You gave them the seals to get rid of Kaguya,” Sakura realized, thinking of how her boys had lunged at Kaguya together, one arm outstretched each... she also thought of the way Kaguya grabbed them, and wrenched those arms from their sockets.

 

“I did,” the Sage agreed. “I was foolish to think they could win a battle my own brother and I barely won ourselves, especially without more aid. Sakura,” he intoned, the lines in his face rigid and stern, “I should not have neglected you. I should not have neglected Kakashi, either. I knew you would fight with them, and I did not equip you to. Even your sensei received more help, albeit from his estranged... friend. I regret it. I’m sorry.”

 

With a hard swallow, Sakura managed to shrug. _The fight is already lost,_ she thought. _What do regrets really matter now?_ Aloud, she said, “What’s done is done.”

 

“What if it could be redone?” Hagoromo asked. “Done again, but better?”

 

“...I don’t understand,” Sakura frowned, trampling down the surge in her chest that demanded to keep fighting, if there was any shred of possibility there was a fight that could still be won.

 

“There are people you want to save,” the Sage pressed. “My mother – these events – were in motion long before you were born, but I know better than to send you to the start. Some things are... unsalvageable. However, should you accept my offer, you will spare the world a great deal of suffering. Your teacher, Naruto, Sasuke... Sakura, you may not have been destined to save the world, but you can still save their hearts. Will you try?”

 

Under the cover of death’s long shadows, Sakura let out a long, shaky breath. She didn’t know what the Sage had planned, not exactly, but if it could give her just one more chance to save her boys, to see them not only alive and well, but _happy_ too? Well, how could she possibly say no?

 

_Shannaro!_ Sakura thought, viciously. Aloud, she breathed a simple, but heartfelt, “ _Yes._ ”

 

 

-

 

 

Years backwards in time, Hatake Ashi gave birth to her first child, a healthy girl with dark eyes and a tuft of silver hair. She looked everything like her father, just as Sakumo had warned would probably be the case. Inuzuka traits were strong, but Hatake genes apparently had a way of dominating all others. “She’s beautiful,” Ashi sighed, lethargy and the aftershocks of labor letting her do little more than cradle her newborn in fatigued arms.

 

“She is,” Sakumo agreed easily, a dopey smile sprawled across his face. He looked ridiculous, and Ashi would have told him so, if she didn’t feel like she’d just had a particularly brutal spar. “Did you still want to name her Fuyumi?”

 

Ashi hummed, staring down at her unnamed daughter, who blinked open dark, charcoal eyes to stare back. From the moment a med-nin had informed her she’d be having a girl, Ashi set her heart on naming her daughter Fuyumi. With the pale, washed-out coloring Sakumo was certain she’d inherit, how could Ashi not name her daughter ‘winter beauty’? Yet, now, faced with the real thing... Fuyumi just didn’t seem to fit.

 

“No,” Ashi decided. “I want to call her Sakura.”

 

“Sakura?” Sakumo echoed, his smile faltering for the first time since his baby had taken her first breath.

 

“It feels right,” Ashi nodded, setting her jaw. Looking at her infant’s face, Ashi knew it was the right name. She couldn’t have been more certain, even if the Sage of Six Paths burst into her hospital room and named the girl himself.

 

Sakumo was silent for a long moment, before he finally allowed, “Alright, but I get to name the next one.”

 

Sakura might be a cursed name for a shinobi – the flowers bloomed and died so quickly, after all – but, years later, when Ashi bore another child, she could take comfort in knowing that she hadn’t looked down at their precious newborn and decided to name it after a fucking _scarecrow_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah... there's nothing in canon about kakashi's mom, so i just went with the fan theory that she was an inuzuka. i don't know if i personally believe it myself, but it does explain kakashi's heightened sense of smell and his bond with dogs. the fact that there's almost nothing about the hatake clan in general doesn't really help prove or disprove anything either. 
> 
> also uh ashi literally means paw. it wasn't listed as a name already used by the inuzuka clan, and they normally name their clan members after dog parts, sooooo


	2. Takesimensis

Sakura wasn’t expecting to gain a new set of parents. Somehow, when the Sage had made his offer, she’d envisioned herself waking to Mebuki and Kizashi’s young faces. Despite knowing Kaguya’s plans were in motion before Sakura’s birth, somehow the shinobi had allowed herself a fantasy of a world where she stood alongside her boys, never behind them, and paid them back for all the times they’d saved her before. Now... she’d have to settle for saving them before they even knew there was something to be saved _from_.

 

Sakura couldn’t say she loved her new parents immediately. In truth, it was hard for her to look at them at first. Sakura had spent 17 years coming home to Kizashi and Mebuki, had fought and bled for the Haruno name, had proved to the shinobi world that civilian children could take up the ninja arts just as well as any clan kid. It was tough to look at Ashi and not long for Mebuki, to see Sakumo and not feel a pang of guilt for Kakashi.

 

Even if she hadn’t known Kakashi’s father was the famed White Fang of the Leaf from Chiyo’s outburst, way back when the Akatsuki had been the bulk of their problems, it wouldn’t have been hard for her to find out. Kakashi’s coloring (and hers now, too) was all Sakumo, from the silver hair to the pallor of his skin. Ashi’s influence was subtle, but as a little girl, Sakura had enough time and memories to look at her and find echoes of Kakashi in the sharpness of her cheekbones and the cut of her jaw. Where Sakumo was square, Kakashi had been angular. _Would_ be angular.

 

It was hard to live among Kakashi’s family, without Kakashi.

 

Had Sakura accidentally erased him? Did she take his place? _No_ , Sakura thought, _the Sage wouldn’t do that. He regretted what happened to Kakashi too_. Not for the first time, Sakura wished Kakashi had been less private. Here she was, in a past he’d lived, armed with only the historical books she’d read (which were undoubtably doctored – no history was told wholly and truthfully) and the few stories she’d picked up here and there, almost none of which had anything at all to do with Kakashi or his childhood.

 

It was also hard to live as a Hatake.

 

As a civilian-born kunoichi, Sakura had almost no inherent advantages. Even her precise chakra control, the main weapon in her arsenal, came from having considerably low levels of chakra in the first place. Now, with an Inuzuka and a Hatake for parents, it was like Sakura’s body wasn’t even her own. Which, in a way, she supposed it wasn’t.

 

The changes to her appearance, while jarring, weren’t a big deal. If she avoided mirrors, she didn’t have to think about it, and most of her face was covered up anyway. After years of wondering, after resigning herself to the fact she’d never know, Sakura finally discovered why Kakashi was always wearing his damn mask: her sense of smell was _ridiculous_ , and his had to have been just as insane. Inside the Hatake compound it wasn’t so bad, every scent dampened by the familiar scents of family – of pack. Outside, however, Sakura could smell practically everything, from animals to strangers alike. It was especially bad because people didn’t just tend to smell like themselves, but also other people, and things they recently ate or touched.

 

At three years old, Sakura had been wearing her own black variant of Kakashi’s mask (she couldn’t accept navy, not when blue had been Sasuke’s color for so long) for a couple months, and found it to actually be an effective scent-blocker. With it on, the scents around her dulled to a level that allowed to her choose what to focus on. Sakura thumbed one of the edges of her mask, which was pooled around the base of her neck, and wondered if Kakashi would have answered honestly if Sakura asked about _why_ he wore the mask, instead of about what was under it. Had he needed his mask from such a young age as well? Sakura tried to picture a little Kakashi-sensei, but could only envision her teacher as he was: tall, capable, and wearing his laziness as a shield. It was hard to picture any child like that.

 

Sakura forced herself to push Kakashi out of her mind. Even if he was gone for good (and he _wasn’t_ ), Sakura had a job to do. If she remembered her history right, war was looming on the horizon, and she still had the issue of derailing Kaguya’s plans. Except... she wasn’t really sure what the goddess had been doing, so many years before her return; the Akatsuki weren’t even at large yet, and Sakura had no idea where Madara had been hiding while he pretended to be dead. Couldn’t the Sage have told her a little more?

 

“Sakura, you’ve barely touched your breakfast,” Ashi’s voice broke Sakura out of her thoughts. Her new mother had chestnut brown hair, almost always tied into a braid, which she interwove poisoned senbon into the few times she left on missions, a habit Sakura privately wished she’d thought of first. Ashi’s features were vicious, even if you ignored the bright red fang markings on her cheeks, which were narrower and sharper than most Inuzuka. Everything about Ashi was defined, and sharp enough to draw blood.

 

A massive dog stood beside Ashi, with snowy fur and black lips. The dog had pale blue irises, which gleamed starkly against the black sclera of his eyes. His name was Shiromaru. The oversized creature was Ashi’s ninken, and had been partnered with her from birth. If Sakura truly _was_ Ashi’s child, mind and all, she may have asked why she never got a ninken of her own. As it was, Sakura knew enough about clans to know it would never happen—Ashi was a Hatake now, and so was Sakura. Inuzuka privileges did not apply to her.

 

Shiromaru nudged Sakura’s chopsticks with his large snout, and the girl diligently went back to eating her rice, holding the chopsticks with surprisingly nimble fingers for her age.

 

“I know you miss your father,” Ashi sighed, standing at the edge of Sakura’s table and ruffling her daughter’s silver hair, a motion that never failed to remind Sakura of Kakashi and his unspoken praise, “but he’ll be back before you know it, okay puppy?”

 

Sakura swallowed, and asked, “Why is he gone so much?”

 

Sakumo wasn’t a bad father by any means, but he was a distant figure in Sakura’s life, something the kunoichi was secretly grateful for, if only because he was a walking reminder of what Sakura had lost. The man took missions like he was addicted to them, home for a couple days at a time and then gone for weeks. Even Sakura, at the height of her medical career, had never been away from home so often.

 

“Your father is very strong and very respected. The Hokage needs him a lot for very important missions,” Ashi explained, taking a seat in a wooden chair across the table from Sakura.

 

Sakura frowned, tilting her head, “Aren’t there a lot of strong shinobi?”

 

Ashi flashed Sakura a thin smile, and admitted, “It’s his way of protecting me, puppy. He thinks the more missions he takes, the less I will, and the safer I’ll be. He’s a typical man – he’d rather stand between me and danger than trust me to face it myself.”

 

Sakura thought of Sasuke and Naruto, and of watching their backs while they faced off the enemy without her. She thought of how hard she worked, of the name she built for herself on both broken and mended bones, only to stand with her boys at the very end and realize they had a great destiny she would never fully be a part of.

 

“Besides,” Ashi continued, “someone needs to stay home and look after our cute little puppy, and I don’t think Papa knows how.” Ashi smiled at Sakura, one of the soft, non-feral smiles that were reserved for Shiromaru and Sakura alone. Warmth flooded Sakura, and though Ashi would never be Mebuki, in that moment Sakura knew she loved her fiercely.

 

“If I join the academy,” Sakura proposed, “Papa won’t have to know how. Genin are adults.” Joining the academy was an integral part of Sakura’s plans. Currently, Sakura had almost no knowledge of current affairs, nor was she in a position to start making major changes. The sooner she became a proper ninja, the sooner she could work her way up the ranks, and have access to more resources.

 

Ashi barked out a laugh, “Oh puppy, don’t be so eager to grow up. The academy accepts students when they’re eight, and you can go then.”

 

“But I’m ready now,” Sakura protested, pouting.

 

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t care,” Ashi shrugged, leaning forward and fixing Sakura in a piercing stare. Her dark eyes were hard, and her tone rigid as she said, “You’re not going to become a child solider sooner than you have to be, Sakura. I’m your mother, it’s my job to protect you, even from the village and its _propaganda_. You will join the academy when you’re eight, and not a year sooner.” Shiromaru snarled his agreement from where he lied on the floor, his hulking form curled by Ashi’s feet.

 

Sakura deflated. Desperately, she wished she could tell Ashi she was _already_ a soldier, and already had a childhood. Sakura’s new parents had taken her supposed genius in stride, though Ashi insisted on treating her daughter like a regular child instead of a _prodigy_ , despite Sakumo’s gentle insistence that her innate talent was something they should shape and harness while Sakura was still young.

 

“...Can I at least go practice my tree-walking?” Sakura asked.

 

Ashi and Shiromaru exchanged looks. “Finish your food first, and take Shi-chan with you,” Ashi decided, completely ignoring Shiromaru’s irritated grunt at her nickname for him.

 

Sakura practically _inhaled_ her breakfast. Her face and nose and hair weren’t the only things being reborn had changed about Sakura. In her previous life, Sakura’s chakra had been easy to control because there wasn’t very much of it. Now, Sakura’s little pond of chakra had become a lake, and was far rowdier because of it. Sakura would never have the enormous reserves of Naruto, nor as much as Sasuke (although, how much of that was natural and how much was Orochimaru, Sakura wasn’t certain), but already Sakura could see hope for her being able to perform major ninjutsu, instead of relying solely on her chakra-enhanced taijutsu.

 

Control was never something Sakura ever had to work for, so learning it now had been proving difficult. A sliver of this body’s chakra was far different from a sliver in her original body, both in nature and amount. Before, Sakura's chakra affinity had been earth, steady and strong. Now, she had lightning crackling throughout her skin.

 

“Thanks Mama!” Sakura chirped, once she polished off her bowl. “Come on Shiromaru-kun, let’s go outside.”

 

“If you’re good and don’t tucker yourself out too much, we can play hide and seek after dinner tonight,” Ashi offered, rising from her seat so she could take Sakura’s bowl and chopsticks to the sink.

 

“Okay!” Sakura exclaimed, hopping from her chair to the floor. As childish as it seemed, Sakura was kind of excited. Despite her mother’s insistence on calling it a game, Sakura saw the training for what it was. Ashi would suppress her chakra down to almost nothing, and Sakura would have to rely on her nose to find the woman. Likewise, when it was Sakura’s turn to hide, she had to get very good at concealing her trail and her chakra to last more than a few minutes against her mother’s keen senses.

 

Sakura cast Ashi one last, lingering look before she turned to go outside, silently wishing the woman would hurry up and have Kakashi. Then, she pushed all thoughts of her old life out of her mind. Right then, all that mattered was making tree-walking just as instinctive and thoughtless as it was in her old life. Without being in the academy, there was precious little Sakura could do to prepare, especially under the watchful supervision of her mom, so she was determined to master what she could as fast as possible.

 

 _Kaguya,_ Sakura thought, pulling up her mask and stepping out into the Hatake clan compound’s yard, _what are you planning?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so first off: yes, this chapter was rewritten heavily. initially, i wanted more of a dichotomy between the reborn sakura and og sakura, but that wasn't very fun to write. so i completely changed gears and i like it a lot better now
> 
> also, regarding sakura's sense of smell: at some point in canon, naruto states that kakashi's sense of smell is better than kiba's. which could be naruto being naruto, but i thought, "oh fuck what if it's true." i didn't think it was unreasonable to believe the hatake clan could have been associated with dogs, considering that hatake literally means farmland, and a lot of farmers keep dogs. plus, kakashi has a summoning contract with dogs, which could have been a clan heirloom. if i took a creative liberty and said sakumo had an enhanced sense of smell, then had him have children with an inuzuka, it's possible those kids could wind up with super sniffers. plus, it gives sakura an excuse to look cool and mysterious


	3. Halcyon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm.......... stunned and overwhelmed by the amount of attention this dumb little story has received. when i posted the first chapter, i thought maybe two or three people would read it, and it'd mostly be a passion project for myself. i'm very grateful for all of the support and i really hope i can keep entertaining you from start to finish with this fic (:

Oftentimes, Sakura felt like she lived with one foot in the present and one foot in the past, walking through her second life in a haze colored by her first. Kakashi was _everywhere_ , an unfortunate side-effect of living in his house and sharing his parents, and it was beginning to drive Sakura absolutely batshit. Leaving the compound, Sakura had found, was worse. There was something inherently _wrong_ about Konoha, from the lack of familiar people in its streets, to the incorrect number of faces peering down from the Hokage monument. The whole world, even her own body, felt foreign and unnatural, like she was lost under layers upon layers of genjutsu.

 

If her past was the future, Sakura wondered, was it still considered the past? Did it even still exist? Was she even saving the same people?

 

For all that Sakura felt out of place and uncertain about her future (past? future-past?), at least things were falling into place in the present. The December before Sakura’s fourth birthday, Sakumo came home... and actually stuck around. Sakura had considered the man to be a bit of a cryptid, flitting in for birthdays and the odd dinner, and leaving with the sunrise. Having him home suddenly and for so long didn’t feel so much like a missing piece had finally fallen into place, but rather like he was an extra, trying to fit into a family that grew around his absence.

 

Sakura and Shiromaru banded together in the face of their new normal. Sakura, because she was wary of whatever had changed for Sakumo. Shiromaru, because he was a bit of an asshole—and, if Ashi was to be believed, a complete mama’s boy who hated Sakumo for hogging her attention. Still, there was little they could do in the face of Ashi’s enthusiasm and Sakumo’s quiet persistence.

 

Two weeks into Sakumo’s unexpected return, Sakura found herself perched on a kitchen counter while her mom chopped vegetables. Ashi was making homemade ramen, and Sakura watched intently, committing the process to memory—if she ever got to see Naruto again, he would never have to worry about Ichiraku being closed.

 

“Are you hungry, puppy?” Ashi’s voice cut through Sakura’s thoughts. The girl’s gaze leaped from her mother’s hands to the small, but unspeakably fond smile on her face.

 

There was no good way for Sakura to explain she wanted to learn to cook for a friend she hadn’t met yet, and would be nearly two decades older than, so she bobbed her head agreeably. “Yeah,” she confirmed, half-truthful, “I’m super hungry.”

 

“What?” Sakumo asked from where he sat on the floor next to Shiromaru, trying to buy the beast’s love with dog treats. “I thought you were Sakura?”

 

Sakura speared Sakumo with the most withering look her chubby, round, three-year-old baby face could muster, and deadpanned, “That is the worst joke anyone has ever told me.” In her new life, that was. Once, her original father took it upon himself to send courier hawk after courier hawk with knock-knock jokes (one line at a time!) until Sakura finally cracked and visited home for a family dinner.

 

There was a beat of silence, then Shiromaru snuffled out an amused noise, and it was like a spell had been cast over the kitchen. Ashi dissolved into a mixture of cackles and snorts, Sakura allowed herself to giggle, and Sakumo huffed out a few breathy laughs. For the first time since the start of her second chance, Sakura felt like maybe this new family could end up just as precious to her as her first.

 

 -

 

Dinner, when it was ready, was the most buoyant it’d been since Sakumo became a regular figure in their lives. Sakura found herself smiling easily, despite the deeply betrayed looks Shiromaru kept casting her. Ashi and Sakumo sat side-by-side across the table from Sakura, and constantly stole food from each other’s bowls, as if it were a challenge to see who could eat more of the other’s meal. It was... cute, Sakura thought. Even at the height of her fangirl days (and hell if those weren’t super embarrassing to even _think_ about) she’d never been able to picture such easy banter with Sasuke.

 

Armed with years of maturity and hindsight, Sakura could acknowledge she never really loved Sasuke. She loved the idea of a mysterious clan heir finding value, or perhaps comfort, in her, and she loved the idea of being able to save Sasuke from his darkness—from himself. It was shallow of her to try to use Sasuke as the measurement that determined her worth, and shallower still to call it love. She knew that now.

 

“Our little genius sure does get caught up in thought, doesn’t she?” Sakura glanced up to see Sakumo looking at her wistfully.

 

“Well, she _is_ a genius,” Ashi teased. “I hear they tend to be pretty good at thinking.”

 

Sakura lowered her eyes back to her food, suddenly no longer hungry. Sakura wasn’t a genius, she just happened to have an adult mind in a toddler’s body. After years of being painfully average, it felt wrong to be praised for something that wasn’t even a real or honest talent. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

 

“That’s okay pup,” Sakumo soothed, charcoal eyes gentle.

 

Ashi reached across the table to ruffle Sakura’s hair (was she where Kakashi had gotten it from?), smiling as she said, “While you’re still with us, your father and I have a very special announcement for you. You’re going to be a big sister very soon!”

 

The brunette beamed, and next to her, Sakumo was smiling too. Sakura looked between them for a long moment, and forced herself to deliberately recall Kakashi’s weird little eye-smile. Sakumo’s prominent features and coloring, Ashi’s sharpness and angularity... Kakashi. Kakashi, who she _hadn’t_ erased. Kakashi, who had been a pillar of strength and security during the war. Kakashi, who was famed across Fire Country once and would be again, because he _existed_.

 

“Don’t cry puppy, we’re not replacing you, I swear,” Ashi fretted, standing from her seat so fast the chair clattered to the floor behind her.

 

Sakura blinked, realizing for the first time the fat tears that rolled down her cheeks, sliding down her chin and falling into her lap. Ashi dragged Sakura into a fierce hug, her expression pinched, and even Shiromaru dragged himself up to press his face against Sakura’s stomach. Sakumo hovered awkwardly, before slowly squeezing Sakura’s shoulder. He looked lost, Sakura realized, the expression the exact same as Kakashi’s when she cried in front of him as a genin. An audible sob ripped through her. “I’m really happy,” Sakura hiccupped, her voice strangled, “I’ll keep him safe, I’ll protect him with everything I have and more.”

 

Sakura felt boneless, the relief ripping through her ribcage like a chidori, and gripping her heart in its electric fist. Around her, Ashi shuddered, and her mother’s voice came out watery as she promised, “You’ll be the greatest big sister in the whole wide world.”

 

 -

 

After Kakashi was born, everything changed.

 

Sakura would never admit it, but her first thought when she saw baby Kakashi was, _Oh, he has a normal face after all_. Birthmark by his lip aside, there was nothing about Kakashi’s features to so much as hint toward why he was so intent on hiding his face, even among his closest friends. The mystery of what was beneath Kakashi’s mask was legendary across Konoha; realizing, now, that the only thing he was hiding was a little brown spot (unless he’d had some sort of horrible accident later in life) ... Well, it was a little disappointing.

 

With Kakashi around, Ashi’s attention was no longer focused on Sakura. It had been a bit of an adjustment, which was another thing Sakura would never admit to, but Kakashi needed their mom more than Sakura did. Besides, having the woman’s overprotectiveness focused on someone else gave Sakura more time with Sakumo. Or, more specifically, secret training time with Sakumo.

 

“You’re going to be a ninja eventually,” Sakumo explained when he first offered to teach her, “I don’t see the point in not teaching you what I can, as soon as I can.”

 

Sakura was horribly, shamefully grateful to be going behind her mother’s back. If Sakumo had turned out to be just as strict and child-proofing obsessed as Ashi, Sakura might have actually started to lose her mind. Horrible things were looming on the horizon, one atrocity after the other until the literal end of the world. Sakura hadn’t just seen it, she’d _lived_ it. Waiting another four years to get into the academy and begin her training... it was unacceptable.

 

Sakumo was a thorough and attentive teacher, in stark contrast to Kakashi’s tutelage, which left a lot more room for “independent study.” He gave her countless scrolls on various jutsu and forms, along with a weak genjutsu to disguise the contents as harmless children’s stories. In the woods where they trained, he also had her run laps, go through katas, and was absolutely unrelenting in teaching her how to throw shuriken and kunai. “You should be able to aim without taking time to aim,” he told her sternly, “whether the target is still or not. This should all become muscle memory to you.”

 

In her old life, as a chuunin, Sakura could fall into any number of perfect stances without thinking, and could throw a kunai as easily as she could throw a punch. For all that her mind was the same, Sakura’s body was very different. This body hadn’t trained for hours, or spent years fulfilling missions. This body hadn’t taken lives and destroyed mountains. This body was still four years old, and weak because of it.

 

Midway through another brutal session of moving target practice, Sakura found herself distracted by a familiar scent, still far off but getting stronger every second. The girl paused, sniffing at the air through her mask. “Papa, do you notice that?”

 

Sakumo paused too, before his eyes widened in realization, “Oh no.”

 

“ _Mom_ ,” they said in perfect, horrified unison.

 

Ashi burst into their clearing with Shiromaru hot on her heels, Kakashi swaddled to her chest so she was free to put her hands on her hips and snarl, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She looked like wrath incarnate, her eyebrows knitted together and her abnormally large canines bared.

 

Sakumo squared his shoulders bravely, and answered, “Well, I think I’m training her to be a shinobi.”

 

“Cheekiness,” Ashi hissed, “will get you nowhere with me. I told you she’s not getting into ninja shit until she’s old enough!”

 

“Ashi, I know you’ve been teaching her how to sense and suppress chakra. I know you let her practice tree walking,” Sakumo spoke slowly and evenly, calm even in the face of his wife’s ire.

 

Sakumo’s gentle demeanor did nothing to quell Ashi’s fury. “I taught her how to run and hide!” she spat, “Like kids are _supposed_ to do when they’re in danger! Children are the future – Sakura is _our_ future. I want her to _live_ Sakumo, not take what little she knows and try to be a big damn hero.”

 

“She’s going to be a ninja anyway, Ashi. She’s going to learn anyway. Why would I disadvantage her by making her learn later when she’s ready now?”

 

Ashi let out a wordless howl, that became a screech midway through. Birds departed at the noise, flapping their way out of the trees to find someplace safer. Ashi whirled on Sakura, and the girl wilted under her mother’s scorching gaze. “Shi-chan, take her to her room. Consider her grounded until I figure out what I’m actually going to do about all this,” she ordered, snatching up her daughter by the back of her shirt and placing her on the dog’s broad, fluffy back.

 

Sakura looped her arms around Shiromaru’s neck as he took off, prowling quickly through the underbrush and away from Sakura’s parents and their argument. Sakura’s eyes burned, and she pressed her face into Shiromaru’s white fur.

 

Sakura wasn’t really sure what she felt the worst about. Was it that she upset her mother? Or that she got her father into trouble? _No_ , Sakura decided. _I was improving_ so much, _but now... Now I might have to stop. But... I can’t._ The worst part was knowing she was getting somewhere, and knowing she’d continue to fuck up her relationship with both parents if it meant she would be strong enough to face Kaguya when the time came.

 

 -

 

That night, Ashi entered Sakura’s room looking wearier than Sakura had ever seen her. The brunette’s eyes were red and puffy, and her mouth set in a hard line. She sat next to Sakura on her bed, wrapping one strong arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “You’re not grounded,” she sighed, voice devoid of its usual flare. “You’re not going to start the academy until you’re eight, like I said before, but... your father has a point. Puppy, I don’t want you to see the ugliness of our world too soon, but if you want to learn how to protect yourself... then that’s okay. The practice will help keep you alive, and really, how could I argue with that? You and Kakashi, alive and happy... that’s all I want.”

 

“I need to be strong,” Sakura whispered into the stillness that followed, “for Kakashi.” For Naruto and Sasuke too, and for all the people caught in the Infinite Tsukuyomi.

 

“Okay,” Ashi whispered back. “Okay.”


	4. Sonshitsu

Sakumo’s attempt at being a family man didn’t last long. Although he’d never been off active duty, for a while the man had been deliberate about taking local missions, and making it home for dinner. His relationship with Sakura had been easy to mend, as she’d already had a lifetime of fathering, and had a good start on being there for Kakashi. Ashi had been optimistic, but Sakura knew better than most the machine that was Konoha, and how its cogs were oiled with blood. Sakumo was a talented man, and talented ninja were needed to cull their enemies, not raise families.

 

Sakura hadn’t given it much thought when she was Tsunade’s apprentice. Missions needed to be completed to support the village, and coming from civilians, Sakura had never experienced the turbulent home life of shinobi. Having seen the stiff, dim-eyed smile on Ashi’s face when Sakumo announced he was once again leaving for a few months... Sakura wished she cared more about just who was being sent on missions, and how often. How many parents had Sakura ripped away from their children while doing her shishou’s paperwork?

 

Sakura’s heart squeezed painfully at the thought of Tsunade, the first person to ever see potential in Sakura. When everything was falling apart, Team 7 shattered and Sakura left in the wreckage, the blonde woman had given Sakura strength and purpose, but for what? Sakura still failed. Sakura _failed_ and _died_ and would never get to know what became of her shishou. Maybe it was for the best.

 

The silver-haired girl took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, emptying her mind with her lungs. Sakura could not allow herself to fixate on the past.

 

With Sakumo gone, Sakura’s training became a mix of self-study, reluctant instruction from Ashi, and grueling exercises done under Shiromaru’s gleeful, sadistic watch. Despite his complete lack of empathy or belief in limits, Sakura would pick Shiromaru’s brand of training over Ashi’s any day of the week. It wasn’t that Ashi was a bad mentor—she was a fierce jounin with many techniques under her belt. It was just... Sakura had a hard time being around baby Kakashi.

 

The longer Kakashi remained a baby, instead of spontaneously transforming into her infuriatingly lazy sensei, the more it set in that Sakura’s world was well and truly gone. This Kakashi, the one she was working so hard to save, was never going to be _her_ Kakashi. Even if he grew up to be habitually late and constantly reading porn in public, he would never be the same. This Kakashi was never going to ruffle her hair with a lazy eye-smile and tell her “good job,” nor would he flounder when Sakura still called him sensei long after she stopped being his student. Sakura... would never be Kakashi’s pupil again.

 

A small, bitter part of Sakura wondered why she tried so hard. The people she loved were already dead—already _gone_. A bigger part of her thought of Naruto, orphaned and hated his entire childhood. Of Sasuke, who went from having one of the biggest families in the village to being completely, utterly alone. Sakura knew Kakashi hadn’t had an easy life either. He’d told Team 7 himself that the names of everyone he ever loved were carved on the memorial stone, and even if he hadn’t, the obscene amount of time he spent standing in front of it spoke for itself.

 

This Kakashi wasn’t her Kakashi, and when Sasuke and Naruto came into being, they wouldn’t be hers either. That wasn’t the point. Here, in this life, Sakura had an opportunity to do what she never really could before—make them _happy_.

 

-

 

Everything was on fire.

 

At least, Sakura’s body felt like it. From her muscles to her lungs, everything in Sakura burned, but she kept running anyway, sweat dripping into her eyes. The girl’s legs quivered, threatening to buckle at any moment, and every step felt like liquid agony coursed alongside her blood. Shiromaru snarled behind her, his breath ghosting at her heels, and Sakura forced herself to pick up the pace despite the screaming protests in her skin.

 

Shiromaru’s jaws snapped forward, his teeth closing around one of her ankles. Sakura could feel each individual tooth. He didn’t bite hard enough to draw blood, but enough to cut Sakura’s momentum and send her sprawling face-first into the grass. He snuffled at Sakura, and the girl didn’t have to look at him to know he was staring down at her with a smug, amused expression, like he did every time he decided to catch her. Shiromaru was far faster than Sakura, and when she ran laps, sometimes he took it upon himself to turn those laps into a desperate sprint for her life, which he ended only when her running became especially sloppy.

 

Truly, Shiromaru was the devil.

 

Sakura didn’t even try to sit up, her face mashed against the dirt as her chest heaved. Sakura wasn’t breathing so much as she was devouring air, consuming oxygen in greedy gasps. Her pulse was a hammer in her throat, beating so fiercely Sakura could feel it in her _skull_. The girl spent a few too-short minutes just lying there, before she pushed herself up onto her arms (the only part of her strong enough yet to bear her weight) and muttered, “See if I feed you scraps ever again.”

 

If possible, Shiromaru only looked more pleased. He dropped into a full body stretch, then sat and watched Sakura expectantly.

 

The girl groaned, but obediently sat up, her stomach protesting at the effort, and dropped into her cool-down stretches.

 

Sakura was improving rapidly, much more quickly than she thought she would. Vaguely, she wondered if it was a result of her near-obsessive efforts, or if being the product of two major clans gave her a genetic advantage. The Inuzuka and Hatake clans had been fighting for generations—could their genes be predisposed for physical prowess? Or was she simply working harder than ever before? Hell, maybe it was both. Whatever the reason, Sakura was pleased with her progress. Already, before even entering the academy, Sakura was in better shape than she’d been when she’d made genin.

 

...Then again, that didn’t say much. Sakura had been too boy-blind to put effort into her career, the combination of dieting and not wanting to look “too muscular” crippling her as a ninja before she’d even fully become one.

 

As Sakura stretched, Ashi poked her head out from inside and called, “Come get lunch, puppy, you need to replace all those calories Shi-chan just made you burn!” Her smile wasn’t quite right, but it never was when she saw Sakura training. Sakura pretended not to notice.

 

The table was already set when Sakura came inside, the scents of pork and egg and cooked vegetables assaulting her nose as she swapped shoes. Kakashi was tucked in the cradle of Ashi’s arms, his dark eyes trailing his sister as she slid into her usual seat. He was intelligent for his age, actually seeming to understand the world around him and occasionally managing to make very good efforts at communicating. The kid knew a lot of words, but had difficulty stringing them into sentences. Still, for just barely being a year old, it was pretty impressive; Ashi liked to call Sakura and Kakashi her little geniuses, but Sakura knew there was only one true genius between them.

 

“Thank you, Mama,” Sakura murmured as she picked up her chopsticks, smiling a little at Kakashi when he continued to stare. Seeing him now, face uncovered and both eyes matching, was hard to reconcile with the image of Kakashi as Sakura knew him. It was weird, but it helped keep them separate in Sakura’s mind; it helped her look at little Kakashi without seeing her teacher disintegrating in front of her.

 

“Of course, puppy. How would you kick ass without me here to keep you fed?” Ashi teased, adjusting Kakashi so she could hold him and eat at the same time.

 

“Hmm... maybe Papa would cook for once?” Sakura suggested, starting in on her katsudon. She hadn’t left the generally scent-friendly (though babies were gross and sometimes made Sakura want to wear her mask 24/7) compound that day, so she didn’t have to bother tugging down her mask to eat.  

 

Ashi snorted around a mouthful of pork, swallowing before she grumbled, “Sure, if you want plain rice.”

 

The two ate in companionable silence for a bit, the quiet only disturbed by the occasional huff from Shiromaru, or hum from Kakashi. Sakura finished her food in record time, though she may have discreetly fed Shiromaru bits of pork here and there, despite what she’d said only minutes before. Such was the power of puppy-dog eyes, even when a canine as vicious as Shiromaru used them.

 

“Your father is due back soon,” Ashi commented, keen eyes trained on her daughter.

 

Sakura blinked. Had the months really slipped by so fast? “Is he?”

 

Ashi nodded a little, before continuing, “When he gets home, I want to go on missions again. Kakashi can drink formula while I’m gone, maybe eat some baby food, and I think Sakumo knows how to change a diaper. At least, I can show him before I leave...”

 

“Um... why now?” Sakura asked, tilting her head. “I mean, you haven’t been on a mission in... a while.”

 

“A little over half a decade now,” Ashi confirmed. “I miss it. Your Papa and I... well, I always thought we’d share the workload, once you were old enough to be on formula. That didn’t happen. Sakura, the Inuzuka clan is a matriarchy, and although I married out of it, I am still very much an Inuzuka. We don’t just _settle down_ and become housewives. I had a _career_ , and I was _proud_ of it. I’m going back on active duty, whether Sakumo likes it or not.” The brunette’s eyes were blazing by the time she finished speaking, her jaw set, and she brandished her chopsticks like a weapon. Hatake Ashi was ready for war.

 

Shiromaru snarled his agreement from beneath the table, tail thumping against the floor. With a jolt, Sakura realized Shiromaru probably longed to be back on the field as well. Just as Inuzuka women didn’t simply become housewives, Inuzuka dogs didn’t simply become house pets.

 

“That makes sense,” Sakura agreed. “I wouldn’t want to become a housewife either.”

 

Sakura didn’t know it yet, but those words would come back to haunt her.

 

-

 

Sakumo returned home, and with it came another argument.

 

Sakura holed up in her room with Kakashi, who hated yelling, and Shiromaru, who was likely to attempt to murder Sakumo if he thought it was what Ashi wanted. Even behind closed doors and with Shiromaru wrapped protectively around the siblings, Sakura could hear her parents’ tense voices clearly.

 

“Ashi, sweetheart, the children need a mother—”

 

“Yeah? Well they also need a _father_ , you cannot keep leaving for _months_ at a time!”

 

“The Hokage needs me. The _village_ needs me.”

 

“Oh? And it doesn’t need _me_?”

 

“That’s not what I meant, honey, surely you—"

 

“Get this into your head, Sakumo: I am going back on active duty. Man the _fuck_ up and start raising your children. I am a kunoichi, and Shiromaru is a ninken. We are _valuable_ to this village. If you wanted a goddamn broodmare you should have married a fucking civilian.”

 

Kakashi’s face screwed up, and Sakura was quick to murmur soothingly, holding him a little closer. Sakura never had siblings, older or younger, and while she’d been around children in her past life, Sakura hadn’t been responsible for calming them. Shiromaru rumbled low in his chest, shifting closer. Miraculously, Kakashi’s face eased before he could begin to cry.

 

Shit, that was weird. Kakashi-sensei and crying did not belong in the same sentence. The Kakashi that Sakura knew would rather wear Gai’s visually offensive spandex and legwarmers than cry.

 

“...Okay,” Sakura heard Sakumo sigh, “we’ll work out a mission schedule.”

 

-

 

Once again, Sakura found herself having to adjust to a new normal. Sakumo’s missions went from month-long endeavors to only lasting a couple of weeks, and on the days he was home, Ashi was on a mission of her own. Although it had been rare for Sakura to see her parents together before their new arrangement, there was something worse about their separation now. It was inherently wrong, seeing Sakumo at the dinner table or holding Kakashi without Ashi around.

 

There was also something wrong about being at home without Ashi or Shiromaru. Somehow, the concept of home had become synonymous with them, their presences so ingrained with the Hatake compound that it felt like the structure itself changed with their absence. Sakura was used to Ashi being home all the time, in the same way she’d grown used to Sakumo being gone.

 

It was a rough adjustment, not just for Sakura, but Kakashi as well. The first time Ashi left on a mission, he cried all day and all night, asking, “Mama? Shi?” whenever he’d exhausted himself too much to keep wailing, before regaining his energy and starting all over again. He was only remotely calm when Sakura held him, recognizing her more than Sakumo.

 

Sakumo was... trying, but it was clear to Sakura that he had no idea how to deal with babies. Or how to care for children.

 

 _Ashi was right_ , Sakura lamented, _he only knows how to make plain rice_. Fortunately, her father was all-too-willing to let an apparent child take the lead when it came to making dinner or looking after Kakashi. The man was very, very lucky Sakura was mentally already an adult.

 

Not for the first time, Sakura wondered about what Kakashi’s original childhood was like. Had Ashi still been so insistent on keeping her ninja career? How had he survived Sakumo’s parenting? How much had Sakura already changed about his life, or even the lives of his parents?

 

Sakura’s training grinded to a near halt whenever Ashi left, between trying to make sure Kakashi stayed calm and trying to show her father how to be a better parent, which was a position she never thought she’d have to be in. Sakura thanked every god she knew for Ashi and Shiromaru never being gone for more than a few days—Sakura didn’t know if they could survive more than a week on their own, even with Sakumo’s gradual improvements to his childcare.

 

Things were changing, yes, but it was a change Sakura could work with. Caring for Kakashi, being older and depended on for once, helped drive a wedge between the Kakashi she lost and the Kakashi who was her brother. It was getting easier to be around him and not think immediately of Kaguya, and how she turned him to ash in a future Sakura was determined to prevent.

 

Life was okay. Really, genuinely okay. Sakura had finally found her footing, and once Sakumo did too, she could resume her daily training. Things were looking up.

 

Then, one day, Ashi left. Three days later, at the expected arrival time, her team returned, battered and bloody, but successful. They were back, except... Except, Ashi hadn’t come home with them, and neither had Shiromaru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, we all knew that was coming
> 
> also ah side note: i've never respected sakumo as a parent, considering the fact that he chose to orphan his son while kakashi was like... four? i think?? i'll double check before i get there. i think he cared about kakashi, but still completely failed at being a dad


	5. Shoganai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa sorry it's been a minute, i've been really nervous about writing for this story. i'm not sure my writing is good enough for the amount of kudos this fic has, and i'm lowkey afraid that a Real Writer is gonna crawl out of the woodwork and drag my ass ;A; 
> 
> i'm very relieved that at least a few of you were sad to see ashi and shiromaru go -- i think original characters in fanfiction can be very tricky, and i'm trying my best to make mine likable, considering that this fic is going to get fairly oc-heavy pretty soon haha

It felt like a bad joke.

 

Sakura wanted to laugh, to roll her eyes, and demand for her mother to stop masking her chakra and reveal that it was all just some horrible lie. She wanted, desperately, to receive Ashi’s post-mission bear hug and Shiromaru’s pleased nuzzle—to see Ashi’s dimpled smile, the way Shiromaru’s ears sometimes got caught inside-out, the uncomplicated joy that softened Ashi’s face as she looked at Sakura and Kakashi. Things Sakura would never have the chance to see again, because Ashi was dead. Shiromaru was dead. The first people Sakura fell in love with in this strange, new world... dead.

 

Used to being the only ninja in a family of civilians, Sakura had forgotten it was possible to lose a parent in the line of duty. When Mebuki or Kizashi left on merchant trips, Sakura never worried – her parents could afford ninja protection. Despite being reborn to two shinobi, Sakura never remembered to be afraid. Sakura never remembered to cherish Ashi, or appreciate every second Shiromaru deigned to spend in her presence. Hell, Sakura couldn’t even remember the last thing she said to either of them.

 

They didn’t even have bodies to bury.

 

According to the mission report Sakumo had wordlessly brought home two days after the return of Ashi’s team, Ashi had noticed enemy nin approaching before they had the chance to be ambushed, and the three-man team agreed to leave her behind to buy time for the others to complete the mission. On paper, it sounded like an okay plan – two people to secure the mission, one person and a ninken to hold the line. Except, they just left Ashi to _die_ , and no one even bothered to double back for her body. Not even the Inuzuka, who largely ignored Ashi since she became a Hatake, raised much fuss about Shiromaru’s corpse. The mission went wrong in Grass Country, and no one wanted to step on the toes of war just for the sake of one family. Sakura hated it, and hated herself for understanding.

 

Whatever happened to Ashi and Shiromaru, no one knew. Was Ashi thinking of her family? Did she know she was going to die? How did it happen? Was she afraid? Was Shiromaru? Sakura had a million questions and no one to ask, because the only people with answers had taken them to the grave.

 

Sakura found herself dreaming often of different ways the end of Ashi’s life could have played out. She dreamt of her mother, screaming with fury at the sight of crimson staining white fur, and of Shiromaru, snarling around a slash across his muzzle as he stood protectively over Ashi’s limp form. In Sakura’s best dreams, Ashi and Shiromaru died as they lived—together. In her worst, Ashi died crying, tears trailing dirt and blood down her cheeks, her voice forming a wet chorus of, “Sakura, Kakashi, I’m so sorry puppies, I’m so sorry,” that echoed in Sakura’s ears for hours after she woke.

 

It felt like a bad joke.

 

Hatake Ashi was dead, but her body wasn’t resting beside her headstone in the clan compound’s graveyard. Sakura normally avoided the area like the plague, but Sakumo liked to sit there with Kakashi and apologize. Sakura didn’t really think it was good for Kakashi to be around, but the idea of taking anything else away from Sakumo now... it didn’t sit well with Sakura.

 

Besides, it wasn’t like Sakura thought she could be any better for Kakashi. While she was asleep, Sakura imagined all the ways Ashi could have died in this world. Awake, however, Sakura wondered at just when and how the woman died before. As an adult, Kakashi was closed-off and slow to share anything about himself, but Sakura knew he was an orphan, and had been one since he was very young, much like Naruto and Sasuke. Before, Sakura hadn’t wanted to pry. Now, she wished she knew more. How had Sakura already impacted Kakashi’s life? Had she accidentally robbed him of a few years with his mother just by existing?

 

Sakura narrowed her eyes at the panels on her ceiling from where she laid on her bed, soaking in the unfamiliar quiet of a house bogged down by grief. Not for the first time, Sakura wondered what the hell she was doing and what the hell the Sage of Six Paths wanted from her. Why send her so far back in time, long before Kaguya’s return? Why make her the older sibling of her genin sensei, instead of literally anyone else? How was she expected to change anything if she didn’t know what was being changed, or why?

 

The girl could let her mind wander for hours if she let it, weaving between potential choices and the moon-goddess shaped consequence for failure, but at the end of the day Sakura just... didn’t know, and it terrified her. The fate of the world rested on Sakura’s shoulders, and she didn’t have the first clue about how to go about saving it.

 

...Except, she did.

 

Ashi hadn’t wanted Sakura to go to the academy early, but Ashi was dead now. The sooner Sakura became a ninja, the sooner she could get promoted. With a higher ranking, Sakura could take more high-profile missions, and truly begin making waves. Hopefully, one of those waves would be the right one. Even so... was it worth it, to spit in the face of Ashi’s wishes? Sakura thought of Kaguya, and the way her expression hadn’t even moved as she murdered the most important people in Sakura’s life. _Yes_ , Sakura thought, _it’s worth almost anything._

 

Sakura pulled herself into a sitting position, and forced herself off the bed. Outside her window, the sun hung low in the sky, and Sakura scolded herself for letting grief make her complacent. In the week since Sakumo sat her down, looking like a shadow of himself, Sakura hadn’t been able to get through her usual routine training. Too often, she would start running through katas and recall Ashi’s hesitant guidance, or throw herself into laps only to be reminded of what an awful slave-driver Shiromaru had been.

 

It didn’t matter what Sakura did or where she went, death followed her like a curse - like Kaguya had eyes on her, even now, and delighted in watching Sakura’s suffering.

 

Even if she didn’t have the Sage’s expectations bearing down on her, Sakura was determined to get stronger. Before, Sakura often felt like she’d lost everything—and she had, but she also gained more than she remembered to be grateful for, before it was gone. This world was more than just a second chance, and danger loomed at every corner, ready to take from Sakura until she once again lost everything. Sakura wasn’t going to let that happen.

 

Sakura padded out into the courtyard, following the ozone scent of her father to Ashi’s so-called grave. “Papa,” the girl greeted as she approached, “how are you holding up?”

 

Sakumo looked like absolute shit, and that was putting it kindly. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and dark shadows aged his face. Everything about him was unruly and haggard; Sakura couldn’t help but think he looked completely destroyed. Still, Sakumo offered his daughter a skeleton of a smile, cradling a sleeping Kakashi, and joked, “I think I should be asking you that, pup.”

 

“I feel like garbage,” Sakura admitted freely, “but I asked about you.” Sakumo could be difficult to talk to, as he had an uncanny knack for making conversations stop being about him, but Sakura had years of dealing with the old Kakashi’s special blend of avoidance.

 

“Are you sleeping enough? Eating enough? Ashi was always...” Sakumo trailed off, his eyebrows pinching together. “...Better.”

 

Sakura shrugged a little, “I’ll be okay. Are you?”

 

“Are you sure? I-” Sakumo cut himself off as Sakura cast him a truly sour look. Finally, he drew in a shuddering breath, and murmured, “...I’m sorry, pup. I really am. I’m not... very good at being a father. I keep forgetting she’s... she’s gone.”

 

“Yeah,” Sakura rasped, lowering herself to sit next to her father. Ashi’s absence haunted Sakura’s every step, but she understood where her father was coming from. While Tsunade was in a coma, Sakura often found herself forgetting she wouldn’t see her shishou that day, roaring and drunk but vibrant and dedicated all the same. Except, Sakura had hope to hang onto then. When she remembered the coma, she also remembered that one day Tsunade could wake up and return to being larger than life. When Sakumo remembered, there was no silver lining to blunt the soul-deep cut.

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Sakumo continued, as if he didn’t look one more bad day away from chasing after his wife into death’s arms, “I’m remembering to take good care of Kakashi.” _Yet you're neglecting yourself_ , Sakura thought, but didn't think she should say.

 

Sakura glanced at Kakashi, who was blessedly still sleeping. These days, the kid had three settings: wailing at the top of his tiny lungs (which was awful), deathly quiet and still (which was worse), and unconscious. It was another unpleasant new normal.

 

“I want to go to the academy,” Sakura cut to the chase, her mother’s name staring at her from where it was carved into her headstone, above some bullshit inscription.

 

“Your mother wouldn’t like that,” Sakumo sighed, glancing down guiltily at the dirt they sat on, where Ashi’s body _wasn’t_.

 

“Mama didn’t want me to see the world’s ugliness too soon,” Sakura spoke softly, choosing her words delicately, “but I think the world without her is ugly. Please let me go to the academy. I need to keep training, and I can't... here.” Privately, Sakura thought having one less kid to worry about would help her father too.

 

Sakumo closed his eyes for a long moment, before he finally agreed, “Alright. She’ll give me hell in the afterlife, but alright.” Sakumo placed his hand on Sakura’s shoulder, squeezing lightly as he added, “All Ashi wanted was for you to be happy, Sakura. She wouldn’t want to see you moping around the compound.”

 

“She wouldn’t want that for you, either,” Sakura pointed out.

 

Sakumo quirked a hollow smile, conceding, “Maybe I should take my own advice.”

 

The three Hatakes lapsed into silence, the last of a dying clan crowding around an empty grave. Sakura thought it was fitting, in the worst possible way. For the last four years, Sakura mourned for people who had yet to be born, let alone die—empty graves, with barren caskets that were filled only with Sakura’s memories. If Sakura did anything with this life at all, she would make sure those memories remained a thing of the past.

 

Sakura closed her eyes and pushed the thoughts of her first life from her mind. Her plans were moving forward, but there was nothing to be done right at that moment. Instead, Sakura allowed herself to picture her mother’s easy smile. The crinkles at her eyes, the dimples that only appeared when she wasn’t faking her mirth, the sharp edges of her canines that peeked out from her lips. Sakura burned it all into her mind as she let herself pretend, for the last time, to be able to hear Ashi’s faint, muffled laughter coming from inside the house.  

 

Tomorrow, Sakura would get off her ass and resume her preparations. Today... she was four years old, and she just lost her mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone grieves differently, and i wrote this with my experience in mind. hopefully it's not completely unrelatable lmao
> 
> this story doesn't really get to rev its engines until kakashi is a bit older, so please continue to bear with me through these beginning chapters. also, did you know sakura's parents aren't actually civilians in canon? turns out her dad is a genin?? i'm keeping them civilians in this fic tho, bc i enjoy how wildly different sakura's new life is from her old one


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